


Concentration

by A_Lesbian_With_Pink_Hair



Category: Free!
Genre: Body Worship, Fingering, Fluff, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Lesbian_With_Pink_Hair/pseuds/A_Lesbian_With_Pink_Hair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are very few things in the world that can really grab Haru's attention and keep it. Makoto is one of those things. Or, sometimes Haruka has to remind his boyfriend how much he cares about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concentration

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most PWP thing I’ve ever written holy goddamn. I don’t even know I’ve never written Free! fic before but sure here goes why the fuck not. I am detoxing from turkey coma, so have some porn. As I said, haven’t written swimming anime fic before, so while I feel I have the characterization down, don’t kill me if anything seems off. I'll probably write more Free! fic in the nearish future.
> 
> Also I headcanon that Haru is autistic. Probably Asperger’s just like me. It’s not really relevant but most of the internal dialogue choices I made with Haru are stemming from that fact. Hope you enjoy!

Haru’s concentration drifts sometimes, like leaves on the water of a lake. It can be difficult to get his attention if you’re not talking about something he finds outright important.

Makoto is one of the few things in Haruka’s life that is deemed worthy of full concentration. Haru _gets_ Makoto. Gets him like he gets water, understands all the facets of him—his great capacity for love, his extreme kindness, his gentle heart, his insecurities, his fear of superstitious nonsense, his tendency to take on too much responsibility at once, the joy he gets from swimming, the joy he gets from being with Haru… Haruka understands these things, and loves Makoto for them.

Makoto, in all his goodness and wisdom, is often quite insecure about his relationship with Haru. When they did eventually get together, no one was surprise (it turned out that Rin and Nagisa had started a bet about it ages ago, which Haru aggressively ignored and Mako sputtered indignantly over as money exchanged hands while Rei, Nitori, and Kou commiserated over their ongoing association with crazy people.) Some days during practice Haru will catch Makoto watching him, green eyes heavy with some sort of misguided guilt over weighing Haruka down, unable to understand that it’s Makoto that always pulls Haru up when no one else can.

Haru watches Makoto watch him and knows that the only way to reassure Makoto is to show him how well Haru knows him, how much he means, how important he is…

So Haru pulls himself out of the pool.

“Hey,” he says, picking up a towel and scrubbing at his damp hair as he approaches his boyfriend. “Have dinner at my place tonight.”

“Eh? Oh! Sure, Haru-chan. I’ll just text my parents and let them know I’ll be late.”

Haru nods and makes his way to the locker room as if he wasn’t planning anything at all.

Getting Makoto to his quiet, empty house is easy. It’s practically Mako’s second home anyway; he comes and goes as he pleases. He’s there far more often than his parents ever are, in any case. Haru and Makoto toe their shoes off at the door and pad through the house on slippered feet, dropping bookbags on the kitchen table. Haru turns on Makoto.

“You were doing it again, earlier, during practice,” Haru says, eyes narrowed accusingly. Makoto flushes and averts his eyes.

“What? No, I wasn’t.”

“Makoto.”

“Haru-chan…”

“Makoto. You know I…” Haru trails off then. He’s not so good at talking about his feelings. His words always get stuck, come out shaped wrong, and no one can ever untangle them except Makoto. Makoto’s gentle eyes soften and he smiles that lovely smile of his at Haruka.

“I know. I’m… sorry. Sometimes I just watch you and think, ‘how could I ever be enough for Haru when he loves something as massive as the sea?’ and it makes me feel small. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Makoto isn’t the sea. Makoto is different. The ocean… Water… I need those things but they don’t need me. That’s just how it is,” Haru struggles with the words. “But with us it’s different. I need you, and you need me, and it’s nice to be needed sometimes. With Makoto, being needed… it isn’t so bad.”

“Haru-chan. I do. Need you. Sometimes I forget you need me.”

“So I’ll remind you. Okay? Let me.”

This, Haruka knows how to do. He knows now, has learned since they became a real couple, what Makoto likes, what he doesn’t. He knows the best way to take Makoto apart, and he relishes doing so when he gets the opportunity, like any 16-year-old with a hot and willing boyfriend.

Haru gives Makoto a rare smile and takes him by the hand to his room. He deftly unbuttons Makoto’s school shirt, loosens the tie and removes it, slides the shirt down Makoto’s arms and lets it drop to the floor. Makoto moves to return the favor, but Haru stops him with a hand on Mako’s wrist and a shake of his head.

_Let me take care of you,_ he says without speaking. _Let me show you that I need you._

He unbuttons his own shirt, but doesn’t remove his. He instead focuses on ridding his boyfriend of the rest of his uniform, socks and all. He places Makoto’s wristwatch on the bedside table and looks down hungrily. Makoto is lying on the bed watching him quietly with wide green eyes, face flushed. Haru nods once, almost to himself, and sits down, stretching to give Makoto a kiss on the mouth.

Haru kisses his cheeks, the corners of his lips, his forehead, his neck, gently cradling Makoto’s head like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever had in his hands.

“Haru, let me…”

“No. Be patient.”

With a huff of frustration, Mako lets himself lie back as Haru resumes, leaving a hot trail of wet kisses and licks down the taller boy’s throat, biting gently at the junction of his neck and his shoulder.

He lets out a sharp gasp, eyes fluttering. Haru knows this body, knows it almost as well as he knows his own, knows where to bite and where to kiss and where to touch, knows how much is too much, and he knows it so well and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be tired of reminding himself.

Makoto is, of course, an enormous person. Just ridiculously tall and extremely well-built from all the swimming, and while Haru has trouble comparing him to anyone else simply due to a lack of interest in anyone else, he’d say that Makoto is probably the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

He lets his deft fingers skim Makoto’s wrists, the crease of his elbows, the width of his shoulders, thumbs circling erect nipples on well-defined pectoral muscles.

“H-Haru…” Makoto murmurs as a thumb brushes lazily over one of the little pink nubs. Makoto is sensitive here, which is interesting considering how this skin is so often bare in the water, but Haru doesn’t mind. He likes it. He laves his tongue over one nipple, with just a hint of teeth, one hand thumbing over the other in a consistent circular motion. Mako whimpers slightly, knowing he’s not allowed to touch but wanting to, feeling wrong for not returning the affection.

This is a problem Makoto has, Haru knows. It’s hard for him to let someone do something for him without trying to do something in return almost immediately. And most days Haru doesn’t mind those large gentle hands on his body, but today isn’t about that. It’s about Makoto, and so Haru ignores the sounds Makoto is making and mouths down over firm abs to Makoto’s bellybutton.

By now, Makoto’s cock has stirred and is already quite hard, precum beading at the tip. Haru licks the palm of his right hand and reaches down to grasp his boyfriend’s erection loosely, stroking smoothly and biting back a smile as Makoto lets out a moan.

“Makoto,” he says, kissing a bent knee and licking at the soft inside of a thigh. “What do you want?”

“I… H-Haru-chan, I want to touch you, Haru—“

Haru bites sharply at the inner thigh, and Makoto jerks.

“Besides that.”

“I w-want… your hand, just. Please, please, Haru.”

Makoto usually gets pretty into it pretty quickly. He is a dedicated, passionate lover, and while Haru has no one else to compare him to, he can’t imagine ever wanting anything else. Anyone else. There’s no one else. Does Makoto know? Haru tells him.

“Makoto,” he says, stroking with one hand and bracing himself with the other, forehead pressed against Makoto’s as he strokes. “You know you’re it, right? Just you. Don’t… I don’t want anyone else. Just Makoto. Okay? Don’t go away. Don’t look at me like you think I need someone better, because I don’t. There’s no one better and I only need you.”

“Haru…” Makoto whimpers, fingers clenched in the fabric of Haru’s sheets. “I love you, Haru, please…”

“Don’t ever go away, Makoto,” Haru keeps talking even though he feels ridiculous. It’s Makoto. Makoto never thinks Haruka is ridiculous, never laughs at him when he can’t express something right, never stops being supportive and wonderful. “I need you here.”

“Won’t go,” Mako moans, breath coming in heavy pants.  “Don’t want to go anywhere. ‘M gonna stay with Haru forever.”

“Yeah,” Haru whispers. He stops his hand and ignores his boyfriend’s whine as he rummages through the drawer for something. “Makoto, can I? Can I touch you there? I want to make you feel good.”

They’ve done it before, just with fingers, fumbling and shy and perfect with a little practice. They have a box of condoms for when they’re ready, but they’re not yet, and that’s fine.

“Y-yes,” Makoto stutters. He’s close, Haru knows, but he revels in the knowledge that he’s the only one who has ever seen Makoto like this and, hopefully, the only one who ever will.

He coats his fingers with lube and brings his hand down to the small opening between Makoto’s cheeks. He knows, abstractly, that Nagisa and Rin have been trying to figure out for ages who tops more often, and as far as he knows, they assume it’s Makoto because he’s taller. Which is really stupid, in Haru’s opinion. Haru thinks, when they get to that someday, they’ll take turns and try lots of things. But he does like this, likes the idea of being inside of Makoto, someday wants to bury himself in that tight heat, be surrounded by Makoto, wants to unravel his love from the inside and watch him fly apart beneath him. He likes that idea, likes fingering Makoto, who is new and sensitive just like Haruka.

Haruka slips a finger in slowly, carefully. Makoto makes a soft noise sort of like a sigh, and Haru pumps his finger in and out, adding a second after a few minutes, searching for Makoto’s prostate. He finds it with relative ease, being sure to brush against it with each thrust of his fingers.

“Nnn, Haru, that’s… aah, it’s good, Haru…” Makoto’s hands are on Haru’s biceps, not pushing or pulling just holding.

“Yeah?” Haru mumbles. He’s happy. That’s all he wants, for Makoto to feel good.

“You can, ah, add another finger…”

The most they’ve ever done for either of them is three. Haruka complies, sliding in a third finger along with the first two. Makoto hisses at the stretch, but pushes back against those fingers, letting out little gasps and sighs that Haru revels in. Makoto looks beautiful, Haru thinks, flushed and moaning and hard, writhing on Haru’s bed with Haruka over him.

“Mine…” Haru mutters, unbidden. “This is mine. Right?”

“Y-y-yes, Haru, that’s… a-ah, Haru, please, let me… please touch me, Haru…”

Haru decides he can do better than that shifting down to suck the tip of Makoto’s cock into his mouth, tasting bitter precum on his tongue as he swallows around him.

“H-Haruka,” Makoto gasps, body shaking. “That’s so… aah Haru, I’m so close…”

Haru thrusts his fingers harder, sucks at Makoto greedily as his boyfriend comes with a loud moan. He takes his mouth away but keeps moving his fingers inside of Makoto, helping his love through his orgasm, slowing and stopping as Makoto’s breath evens out.

Of course, Makoto’s thought is instantly of his boyfriend.

“You still haven’t… let me…” he mumbles, reaching for the zip of Haruka’s pants. This time Haru lets him, lets Makoto slide his pants and jammers down and strokes him to completion. Haruka isn’t nearly as noisy when he comes, but he spills over into Makoto’s fist and doesn’t bother to clean up as he kicks away the last of his own clothing and lets himself fall into Makoto’s arms, sated and happy.

Everything else can wait.


End file.
